


a ship's log is written with ink

by Arzani



Category: One Piece
Genre: Friendship, Grief, Inktober 2019, M/M, Multi, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 10:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20852060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: My creative way of InkTober in written words. Co-Posted on Fanfiktion.de (in German), so everything is written and translated by myself. A collection of moments of different characters





	1. Ring

**Author's Note:**

> #1 ring  
How Benn got to his earrings. Also: you can pry the headcanon that they are steel-earrings from my cold, death hands.

“There I know you for over 20 years now, and I’ve never seen you wear jewellery.”

The voice sounded so innocent in Benn’s ears, he almost missed the reproachful undertone. He knew his captain way too good, though, to fall for it. After all he knew Shanks for almost 20 years now, too. Give or take a few months. Benn had stopped counting a long time ago, though he’d never forget the fateful day when he met Shanks. After all that day changed his life. But that was a whole different story, altogether.

Slowly he turned around, so that now his back pressed into the red shimmering wood of the railing. Behind him the water sparkled in the sun, in front of him brown eyes did. Their gaze shifted interestingly towards his ears. Between his silver-gray hairs the steel rings almost got lost. At least that was what Benn had thought.

”Aren’t you the one always preaching I don’t show my pirateness enough?” he asked and therefore didn’t even try to hide how unusual the way he presented himself was. Even though there hadn’t been that much change. But Shanks was, despite his seemingly naiv behaviour, a good observer. Maybe the best. Because he rarely revealed what he saw. He saw probably more than even him - Benn - guessed, even though he was Shanks’ first mate, best friend and companion. Maybe even more. No one could define them precisely. Not even themselves.

“Do I judge you?” Shanks mused and stepped closer. Tilting his head to one side, Shanks reached for Benn and brushed one strand behind his slightly reddened ear, to see named piece of jewelry better. A shudder run down Benn’s back and he had to stop himself from leaning into Shanks’ touch. It may be inappropriate. Not that anyone here cared. “Looks good on you.”

He breathed out flatly and then smiled. “Thanks.” Benn did care for the opinion of his captain. Even though he rarely admitted it.

The hand played with the silver ring at his ear for a moment, then went down his cheek, back to his neck. There it simply stayed put and Benn let Shanks do as he pleased. He still waited for something to happen. He didn’t know what, but he felt that Shanks had something left to say.

Silence developed between them, despite the background noises, which simply existed on a ship. There was the babel of voices of their crew, the waves crashing against their hull and the wind in the sails. Then Shanks spoke. His voice sounded different, darker.

“The earrings had been in the letter you got this morning.”

It wasn’t a question, just a statement, so Benn simply nodded. He had believed to shy away from this conversation. But with Shanks so close, Benn’s heart beat a notch slower. The panic and fear didn’t consume him. Not like this.

“They belonged to my mother,” he said. His voice was low, dulled. But he didn’t have to speak loudly to be heard. Shanks was close enough. In body and in spirit. “She died ten days ago.” A pause started to form, in which he tried to sort his thoughts. “The burial’s probably already over. But…”

He stopped. He should have known that he would fail in sorting his thoughts. Shanks however just pulled him down to himself, the hand in his neck guided him until his forehead touched Shanks’.

“Want me to come?”

And there it was, the grief he had missed since he had read the letter this morning. Four words, which breath touched his lips softly and sunk deep into his heart. Four words which managed a tear to streak down his face. A tear filled with the pain of years of running, suppressing, arriving home, accepting and finding anew.

His voice trembled as he answered and Shanks’ hand caressed his cheek again. With soft force of his thumb he pressed against the earring, which was around the hole still slightly red from getting his ear punctured. The pain reminded Benn of being alive.

“Please…”


	2. frail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #8 frail

The flower lay crushed and broken on the ground. It was still red, but in a few days - hours - it would turn brown and wither. Ignored and forgotten. It made him sad.

His fingertips stroked the soft petals almost tenderly, his knees on the dusty ground. Even though there was a whole bush of magnificent hibiscus blooming close by, it was that ragged one casting a spell over him. It stoked his memory.

"Capt’n?" A familiar voice reached his ear. He could feel the anxious presence behind his back. It watched over him, present and steady, like an ancient mountain that had seen so much. Its steadfastness rubbed off on him and made him quiet. Quite unlike himself, who was thrown back and forth like a cork on the waves of life.

His hand encircled the blossom, rubbing the leaves between his fingers, leaving a faint scent behind. Then Shanks got up and dropped the bits and pieces of the flower on the floor. He really didn’t like this time of the year.

A hand was placed between his shoulder blades, trailing his spine until it rested on his hips. He enjoyed the familiar touch. Familiar for years, now, though it had taken a while to get to where they were now. Their love had grown for a long time. Then, finally, his arms wrapped around him and pulled him towards a strong chest.

"What were you thinking of?" Benn asked softly. Shanks valued that he never speculated. He would ask, over and over again, even if Shanks kept giving the same answer. Benn knew that someday he would hear another. Because that’s how they were. Because today, that’s how it was.

He had only ever seen her once - the woman in his own captain’s life. She had worn a flower, like this one. She had been broken, like this one. Broken under a foreign hand, undeserved. She hadn’t been allowed to unfold her full splendor. She had been picked and thrown away.

He shivered, bit his lips and then leaned back into the arms that held him. A steadfast mountain, not a fragile flower. He wasn’t allowed to forget.

“About how fragile life is,” he murmured. As an answer, the arms tightened their grip around his body. As if Benn knew what he thought. He probably did. Not a speculation, but long gathered experience. They had talked so much about it.

Shanks knew, even this could end someday. But before it happened, he would bite and claw and fight with tooth and nail. He had been forced to give up too much. He wouldn’t allow it to become more.

Life was fragil. Frail. But he wasn’t anymore and he had people in his life who made him strong. Because of that, he would protect them until glas turned to dust.


	3. ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #13: ash

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust. Wasn’t that a saying? Everything was fading, everything but life itself. It went on and on, even if you yourself weren’t there anymore.

His gaze wandered over the sparkling ocean. Brilliant sunshine turned the water into a field of diamonds. Fresh air hit his nostrils and a fine fog of water, whirled upwards from the waves, hit his face. The glass which he held in his hand, was filled with ash.  
.  
He had turned old. In his childhood and youth Marco always thought he didn’t become older than eighteen. Eighteen had been ancient, back when he had been six, seven. Being eighteen had meant being an adult and adults either knew what they where doing or were dead. As an urchin Marco had bet to be in the latter category. And where was he now? In his forties, a pirate and … alive.

He was alive, while so many others weren’t. Too many had died young and hadn’t reached the glorious age of eighteen or twenty or forty. Even back then, in his youth, he had seen people, children die. Today the children from the streets had become his fallen crew comrades. People died and he couldn’t do anything against it.

Maybe he was a sentimental, but he had kept their ashes. As often as possible he had kept the ashes of the vivre cards in a glas, which he now held in his hand. It had become full. Marco had promised to himself, before the glas was completely full, for it to be him who took the last journey instead of a younger crew member. But during the war at marineford too many had died and no ashes had been left to collect.

What a stupid, nostalgic idea. How naive to think an oath or something materialistic to cling to could change the course of all things.

He eyed the horizon, this straight line, which separated the ocean from the sky. Nothing was eternal, no oath and no existence, only the eve- flowing water.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust. Whoever invented that saying had never held a vivre card in their hands and had never lost a beloved.

All this blood, all the fight, all for nothing.

He pushed himself out of his lethargie with force, loosened the top of the glas and let the ashes fly. It danced in the wind, until it drowned in the sea. Where every pirate needed to end. Inside the eternal ocean.

“Forever inside my heart,” he murmured before he turned away from all he had lost and forced himself to look forward. At least for the moment. As long as it lasted, before grief returned and held him in its grip


	4. coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #27: coat

“No!”

“Oh, come on, Benn, please?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But it’s just a piece of clothing.”

An annoyed sigh was heard and Benn wondered why he didn’t just stop this conversation. It showed - again - how much he had fallen for his idiotic captain. Why, why in all five seas, had he fallen for a chaot? And called him his captain as well?

“Do you know why it’s called a captain’s coat?” Benn asked resigned and still knew that he wouldn’t get a reasonable answer. After all this went on since twenty minutes.

“Because most captains wear a coat?” Shanks answered innocently and even blinked with his doe-like eyes. As if he believed what he said. Even though both know it wasn’t so. He really needed a smoke. Without thinking he reached into his back pocket, in hope the pack was still full.

“It’s called captain’s coat-” He placed one of the brown cigs between his lips. The pack was half full. It should be enough. “because it’s reserved to the captain to wear it. I don’t remember to be this ship’s captain.”

His cigarillo bopped slightly while he talked. With fluent movements he fished for his matches, got one and lit it. Not a moment later his cigarillo smouldered and he felt the smoke in his lungs.

“You’re my second in command. Without you nothing would work here. Not to mention it’s just a stupid coat,” Shanks argued and a smirk swept across Benn’s features.

“It it’s just a stupid coat, why do you want me to wear one?”

A red sheen dotted Shanks’ cheeks and - oh - maybe he should have asked that question earlier? Actually Benn wanted to avoid all of this because he found a coat unpractical. You got tangled up in it, it got caught or slipped off one’s shoulders. As well as he found the privilege should only be offered to the captain, which he wasn’t. Had never wanted to be it. Shanks was perfect for the position, as he was perfect to be the second in command. They were a team, it didn’t really matter anyway.

“You’re an officer. My first mate and second in command. People should see that.” The answer followed to slowly from Shanks, for Benn to believe it to be the full truth. It surely wasn’t a lie, yet … he stepped closer to his redheaded friend and partner.

“So people should see, mmh?” Shanks blush just became a notch redder und by now Benn could feel his body’s warmth. They nearly touched and he was thankful to not have to hide this on board of the Red Force. He leaned towards his captain and his breath swept over Shanks’ face. Shanks bit his bottom lip, but allowed Benn to come so close. He wasn’t one to run from a confrontation, in whatever situation he found one. “Only you or everyone else as well?”

In an instant Shanks grabbed his forearm and stopped Benn’s planned kiss. Instead he was whirled around by his captain, so his back pressed against the main mast, at which they had stood. The force of the movement made him catch his breath and for a moment he couldn’t breath. Then he realized gleaming eyes looking at him.

“I want everyone to see which position you have, Benn Beckman. I want the people to speak your name as reverently as mine, because they know you’re my partner. You are my second in command, because of your own strength, apart from mine. You deliberately choose to sail with me and it should leave everyone in awe. If a piece of clothing can show all of this, then I will insist for it to show it. You’re with me because you want to be with me, because we want to be together and not because one of us needs to.” By now Shanks’ hand had clawed itself in his hair, tugged lightly at it and it made him shudder. Every word hit his soul. With soft force Shanks pulled his head towards him and Benn followed. His warm breath touched Benn’s ear as Shanks stood on tiptoes to whisper into it. Words only to be heard by him.

“You’re my partner, Benn. We’re captain and first mate, because the crew needs it. Not because you or I do. You’re mine, I’m yours. Forever.”

I didn’t need more than this words for Benn to drop all his self-restraint. His cigarillo dropped neglected on the floor, as he reached for Shanks, pulled him towards him and kissed him fiercely. Their mouths crashed together, their hands pulled at each other, touched, searched, found and took in. A sight they usually reserved for the privacy of their cabins. In this moment, however, it didn’t matter.

Only after what felt like eternity they separated, catching their breaths. Benn’s gaze wandered over Shanks’ face, his flushed cheeks, those swollen lips, his gleaming eyes. Then he grinned and rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get this fucking coat.”

A low grumble left Shanks’ throat and he tugged at Benn’s hair one last time.

“You will look dashing in a coat.”

And he should have known from the start, next to everything else, that this was one of Shanks’ reasons why he had even started the conversation.


End file.
